


Bonding Moments

by Sensue



Series: Suitcase of Memories [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherhood AU, Comedy, Family Bonding, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26001316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sensue/pseuds/Sensue
Summary: Cullen Ames wants to bond with his grandson, Caleb. He takes him out to meet some of his friends, who are upper echelon New Yorkers.
Series: Suitcase of Memories [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887088
Kudos: 2





	Bonding Moments

Caleb Reaves was in hell.

Truly and utterly _in hell_.

The room was dark and filled with smoke, making his eyes water—although he hid it well, wiping at them before tears slid down his cheeks. It was loud, filled with drunken laughter and jokes that were _so inappropriate_. There was a waitress, handing out drinks and getting her behind pinched at every table. Caleb noticed that it didn't even faze the young woman—she must've been used to it by now.

A warm hand on his shoulder pushed him forward, patting him when he dragged his feet a bit. "Come along, son. You'll enjoy this."

Caleb rolled his eyes. 'Sure, I'll enjoy this,' he thought, 'As much as anyone enjoys a bunch of dirty old men.' To his grandfather, he gave a fake smile. "Sure, Grandpa. I can't wait." It wasn't like he had anything else to do on a Friday night—like go to a rave party or anything.

Cullen Ames laughed at him, "Well, you don't have to be so grumpy, Caleb. Relax. I want you to meet my friends. You know, not everyone gets invited to this Lodge. It's very exclusive... A sort of millionaire's club."

The waitress darted directly towards the couple, her breasts showing through the tight white buttoned-down shirt. She leaned over to hand Cullen a drink, brushing against him ever so slightly. "Hi, handsome. Your usual?"

Caleb watched in horrified disgust as his grandfather leaned over and kissed the young woman on the corner of her lip. "Thank you, sweetheart." The girl blushed with the attention, before turning towards the boy.

"Oh, who's this?" The woman crooned, leaning over to pinch Caleb's cheek. "He's so cute."

He pushed her hand away from his face. "I'm cute? Are you kidding me? What are you—like five years older than me? Give me a break!"

Cullen laughed heartily, the room turning their attention towards them. "This is my grandson, Caleb. Caleb, this is Miss Katherine. She's worked here for quite a long time—long enough to know all of my favorites. She takes care of me. Don't you, sweetheart?"

"Of course, Mr. Ames." Much to Caleb's shock, she curtsied—showing off more of her _attributes_. "Can I get you anything, Caleb? Fruit punch? Or maybe some KoolAid?"

He glared at the waitress—then upped the ante. "How about you get me a beer?" If the stupid girl was planning on treating him like a little kid, he'd show her.

She almost squeaked. "Beer? I don't think that-."

Cullen chose that moment to step in. "I don't think that one beer will hurt the boy. Bring it to our table. Thank you, Katherine."

"Yes, Mr. Ames. Right away." With that, she led them to what Caleb believed was Cullen's usual table. The table was already full—but another chair was quickly brought over and a place setting was set up for him. Cullen shook hands with everyone at the table, introducing his grandson.

Caleb looked around the table of eight. Most of them were old men—some of them older than his grandfather. One of them looked to be in his twenties or early thirties, his hair flopping all over the place as he sat next to his father. He was quickly introduced as Donny Trump, the son of Fred Trump. His grandfather explained that the family was in Real Estate.

The rest of the men were mostly lawyers—one was a federal judge. They were served caviar, escargot, and fillet minion, which Caleb only picked at until Cullen asked the waitress to bring him a gourmet steak burger with homemade spiced fries. They drank more than Bobby Singer on his worst day and they smoked thick Cuban cigars that filled the air with its rancid odor. His grandfather handed him one of his but refused to light it for him. It didn't matter; Cullen was trying not to let him feel left out and worked to include him in everything.

Most of the conversation revolved around Donny's offer to the city to restore Wollman Rink in Central Park. The others ridiculed him for offering to do it for free, laughing at his inexperience. They called him an idiot with 'no business sense' and tried to talk his father into giving a desk job in a quiet corner of the Trump Organization where he couldn't screw up. The rest of the time they joked about the guy's wife—who apparently was a drop dead Olympic bombshell from Czechoslovakia. He felt sorry for the guy, Donny was taking it all in stride—as if he'd heard it every day of his life. The only thing he said is that one day—they'd all see; he'd be the richest man in the world. Caleb cracked up at that; it'd never happen.

Once lunch was over, the wait staff quickly cleared the table and set up an elaborate velvet cover over the top. Caleb was confused, but the mystery was solved as a cart full of poker cards, chips, and scorecards were brought over.

"Caleb, my boy. This is why I love to come here. To spend time with friends, and to play one of the greatest games invented." Cullen shook the boy's shoulder. "I'm going to teach you how to play poker!"

It was on the corner of Caleb's mind to tell his grandfather that he already knew how to play, but the look in the older man's eyes stopped him. This was how his grandfather wanted to bond with him—so, he'd go along with it. So, he sipped at his watery beer and sucked on the end of his cigar as he listened to the older man as he explained each card and the rules of the game.

He was quick to learn, much to Cullen's surprise and they all started a friendly game. Judge Farris quickly turned his attention to the ignored boy. "Well, I suppose you'll be running the family business before long?"

It drew curious glances from the other men. Caleb squirmed under the attention. "Um, I haven't really given it much thought yet…"

Cullen intervened, "Don't harass my grandson. I'm still trying to convince him that business is in his blood. I don't want you all to scare him away." He said it in a joking manner as he drank a swig of brandy, swirling it around in his glass. The table laughed and the game resumed.

At first, Caleb played barely well enough to be the first one to fold. He watched each man as they bet, folded, lied, and bluffed their way through the game. Quickly, he discovered each man's tell—a wipe of the nose, a sip of their drink—and decided to play to win, the hunter way. The money was too good—these guys weren't playing with candy or dollars—they were playing in the grands.

He'd gone through folding earlier for another three rounds, before suddenly winning seven thousand dollars. Even Donny gapped at him in shock. He pulled the chips toward him, a huge smile on his face. "Thanks for dinner, guys. But, I think it's past my curfew, so we better head home, grandpa."

Cullen stood up, an indecipherable look on his face. He grabbed their coats, said goodbye to his friends, and walked out with his arm around his grandson's shoulders. Caleb was still flipping through the wad of cash he'd won, smiling. They'd both climbed into the limo and the driver headed towards home.

Cullen stared at his grandson. "You know how to play poker. Don't you?"

Guiltily, Caleb nodded. "Sorry, grandpa. I just thought you wanted to teach me—so I didn't want to disappoint you."

The old man nodded in wonder, "You _hustled_ those men!"

With wide eyes, Caleb held out the wad of cash. "I'm sorry. You can give them back their money… just don't be mad at me."

The cash was ignored, "I'm not angry with you; I'm surprised. Hell, they deserved to be hustled—in case you didn't notice, most of my friends are snobs. They consider anyone who doesn't make less than two million a year poor _and lowly_. If I had known, we could've taken them for at least twenty thousand."

Cullen laughed, "Oh, well. Next time, then."

Caleb's eyes widened at the money, then at his grandfather, darting back and forth. "You mean, you want me to hustle your friends?"

"Well," Cullen was thoughtful, "Not if it's their birthday. We usually let them win on their birthday."

"What about those women? The waitress?" Caleb asked.

"Oh, they usually hang on our arms and let us hit on them with the slim hope that we might decide to be their 'sugar daddies'… I think that's the term." Cullen explained matter-of-factly. "Some of the men like to give them gifts—they like it, it makes them feel loved. It's a sad state of affair when you have to give gifts for someone to love you…"

"Yeah, that sucks." The boy commented. "As long as you don't go being a 'sugar daddy' to anyone near my age—It's cool."

The older man laughed heartily. "You know, I'm thinking we should go on another family vacation…"

Caleb sat up tall, excited, "Really?"

He was rewarded with a warm arm around his shoulder. He was squeezed tightly. "Yes, I'm thinking of Las Vegas…"

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to write this, since I read that Cullen and Caleb used to play poker. Mac used to warn his father not to let Caleb win more than a couple hundred at a time… so, I figured this was how it started.


End file.
